Resident Evil: Black Rain
by Fergie
Summary: The President of the United States has decided to crush the Umbrella organization and the BLACK RAIN team led by Major Leon S. Kennedy is his weapon of choice. Prelude to the events of the upcoming RE:4.
1. Executive Decision

The White House

Oval Office of the President

Washington, D.C.

30th January 2000

" Mr. President, there's a call for you on the secure line. "

The Secret Service agent took off the wireless earset he was wearing, cleaned it with a tissue, and handed it to the man who defeated George W. Bush in every state except Florida. Dark-haired, handsome, and charismatic was how the newly elected President was described in the press. He took the earset from the Secret Service agent, whispered a thank you, and placed it on his right ear. The fun was over, he thought to himself. Time for this administration to really get to work.

" This is the President. Code Umbra Zero Zero Zero One. Verify. "

" Code Umbra Zero Zero Zero One verified and accepted. Hold one, Mr. President as we connect you with the Director of the BCU. "

Hmmm, thought the President. They finally did it. The Biohazard Countermeasures Unit is fully operational. It took a lot more of my political muscle to get this approved by both the House and Senate Intelligence Oversight Committees but the BCU is now a reality. The BCU would be the spearhead to accomplish a single goal: the total and utter annihilation of the Umbrella Corporation and its affiliates. He remembered flying over the radioactive wasteland that once was Raccoon City. Oh, how he wept for those who had been massacred. The President was one of a select few who knew what really happened back in 1998. He wiped a tear away as he thought of his younger sister who had left for a camping trip in the Arklay Mountains, never to be heard from again. Now was the time to act. He now had the power, the resources, and more importantly the personnel to mount an assault on the seemingly invincible Umbrella Corporation. The President had a feral smile on his face as he remembered the codename for the BCU.

Black Rain. A rain so toxic, so acidic not even an umbrella would provide much protection.

" Good evening, Mr. President. This is Director Redfield. The Morgue is now open for business and BLACK RAIN is at 100 readiness. Awaiting further orders, sir. "

The President knew that once he gave this order there would be no recall. It would be a dirty war, one that would show no mercy to those who owed their allegiance to the Umbrella logo. It would not end until the corporate empire was razed beyond revival. Their assets frozen, their facilities destroyed, and all vital company officers either imprisoned or dead. There would be consequences. There would be repercussions…

Screw it. The government of the United States would not let the murder of its citizens within its own borders go unavenged. No foreign government, no terrorist organization, and certainly no corporate entity that maintained a headquarters here would be allowed to commit atrocities here. He paused for a second then spoke into the mike.

" You have a green light, Chris. Initiate Vertical Strike. "


	2. Vertical Strike, pt 1

22,300 miles above the Earth

Geosynchronous Orbit

SST-104 / Space Shuttle Enterprise

30th January 2000

0000 Hrs. MST

" Houston to Enterprise, calling Enterprise over. "

Colonel John Edinger, USAF, rubbed his eyes with his free hand. It was the start of his watch; the rest of the crew was still sound asleep in their bunks. He lazily keyed in a command on his touchscreen and was satisfied with the status indicators. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Absolutely nothing. Yawning, he signed off on the checklist on his clipboard. So far this trip is about as exciting as watching turtles doing the nasty, the astronaut thought to himself. Might as well see what the eggheads at Mission Control want. Probably want to put us through another freaking Chinese fire drill…

" Enterprise to Houston, we're all in the green. Over. "

" Roger that, Enterprise. Be advised of incoming flash message. Priority UMBRA. "

The colonel's eyes opened wide. Any message tagged Priority UMBRA meant it came straight from the White House. Did it have something to do with the new module and mission specialist they took aboard at the last minute? Now his interest was really piqued. Something big is going on and this crew was going to be an active participant. His hands began to sweat just like they did before he was scheduled to fly a sortie into combat.

" Affirmative, Houston. Standing by for incoming flash message. Transmit when you're ready. "

Thirty minutes later, Colonel Edinger typed in a receipt confirmation code back to Mission Control and printed a hardcopy of the flash message. Then he flipped a switch activating the shuttle's intercom. There's really something about being careful of what you wish for 'cause you might just get it. Right in the freaking keister.

" Attention crew, this is the commander. Dr. Chambers, please report to the cockpit now. Crew, prepare for immediate action! "

The mission commander rechecked all of the shuttle's vital systems and saw that everything was still in the green. He unbuckled himself from the seat's safety harness and floated over to the navigator's workstation. Colonel Edinger had just finished plotting the Enterprise's new course when the specialist floated into the cockpit.

Standing upright, she was only 5'2". Her hair was now worn shoulder length instead of the boyish cut she used to favor. Through the rigorous training she received in the astronaut corps, her small frame was now wiry and muscular. She greeted the colonel with a jaunty wave and held out her hand. The colonel returned her smile.

" I think this addressed to you, ma'am. " Then Colonel Edinger spun the hardcopy towards the other astronaut. It floated end over end until it crossed the length of the cockpit until it reached the outstretched hand of Dr. Rebecca Chambers, MD, a last minute addition to the crew of SST-104.

In the last couple of years, Rebecca had little to smile about. Her city was reduced to ash, thanks to the nuclear tipped cruise missile launched by the Umbrella Corporation. Her teammates in the RPD's S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team were butchered in the Arkady Mountains during the Raccoon City Massacre. She still has a phobia of riding trains. She still had the nightmares to keep her up at night. The former medic first turned to working for Doctors without Borders doing humanitarian work in Third World nations. Then she worked for the CDC as a virologist and a consultant on biological WMDs. It was in that capacity that Chris Redfield found her and made her an offer. An offer that might just help her sleep at night.

She read the message.

TO: SURGEON

FROM: UNDERTAKER

FORECAST READS BLACK RAIN. WEATHERMAN APPROVES. INITIATE BLIND FURY. END MESSAGE.

Colonel Edinger watched the expression change on Rebecca's face. It became harder, more determined. He was about to reach out and comfort her when she spoke.

"Colonel, per Executive Order 5150 and the National Security Act addendum D this vehicle, its crew, and its payload are now under the direct command of the Biohazard Countermeasures Unit. Get your crew ready, sir. We're going to war. "

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. Vertical Strike, pt 2

The Morgue

Biohazard Countermeasures Unit H.Q.

Cheyenne Mountain, Wyoming

30th January 2000

0030 MST

Surrounded by various 27" flat screen monitors, Chris Redfield typed in a variety of commands into his wireless keyboard. The secure mil-spec Dell 8180 hummed along with the other high-tech tools that was available to the personnel of the newly created BCU. Satisfied with the sitreps he had received in the last half-hour, the Director of the BCU decided a break was in order. He adjusted the Bianchi shoulder holster that held a modified 9mm Beretta pistol and left his office.

At 27, Chris was the youngest director of any government agency. When Barry Burton, the grizzled S.T.A.R.S. veteran, was offered the position he told the White House to piss off. Barry didn't want the responsibility but he personally recommended Chris for the job. It took a lot of political wrangling from President Graham to push through both the House and the Senate but Chris was vetted in a very short time. The first special agent that Chris hired was Barry, who would become BLACK RAIN's armorer. If his people were going to war, then he needed the best man to arm them. When it came to weapons, there was no man better than Barry.

Chris took a magnetic keycard from his pocket and slid it through a reader. The elevator doors opened for him. Once inside, the BCU's director pressed his thumb against a biometric scanner. Now that his identity was confirmed, Chris pressed the button for Basement Two. He needed to get in some range time. There should be no one there at this hour.

Basement Two was where the Biohazard Countermeasures Unit practiced their marksmanship and close-quarters battle drills. Every special agent was required to be proficient with a variety of small arms. There were quarterly evaluations conducted; if a member failed to pass then he was placed on 'administrative duty' until he passed the next evaluation. It was a harsh regulation but it needed to be done in case any member of BLACK RAIN encountered a similar situation like the former S.T.A.R.S. officers did in the Arklay Mountains. Survival was of the utmost importance and every member of BLACK RAIN became well-versed in this skill.

He was surprised to hear the staccato burst of a sub-machine gun being fired. There was a lone woman, dressed in a black sports bra and Nike track pants. Her skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She held what looked like at first an Israeli Uzi fitted with an under-the-barrel Aimpoint laser designator. There was a moving target that was disintegrating under the hail of bullets she aimed. Chris noted that the destroyed target was one of the Nemesis models. The dark-haired beauty flicked the safety on the SMG and turned around.

Jill Valentine removed the yellow-lensed shooting glasses from her face. She gave Chris a mischievous smile. Taking a screwdriver from a toolkit on the bench, Jill began field-stripping the Steyr Tactical Machine Pistol (TMP). Once the weapon was broken down into its separate parts, she cleaned them with a wire brush and liquid Break Free. It was several minutes before either of them said a word.

" That's new. Is it going to be standard issue? ", asked Chris.

Jill had just finished reassembling the Steyr TMP. She placed the weapon down onto the bench. After taking a sip of water from a nearby cooler, she wiped herself down with a towel.

" Yeah, it's a new addition to the arsenal. It's a Steyr TMP. 900 rounds a minute. Something we could have used back in Raccoon City. "

At the mention of their former home both ex-S.T.A.R.S. officers had a flashback to those terrible days. They had fought for their very survival against the artificially created undead. Each thought they were the only survivor of the Alpha Team. Both were relieved to see the other at the various debriefings with the DOD, DOJ, FBI, FEMA, and the Oval Office. When Chris was tapped to head the new agency he asked Jill Valentine to become his Chief of Field Operations. As a former detective she had great instincts and even better intuition. While she had a tendency to bend the rules while she was in S.T.A.R.S., Jill always got results.

" Jill, it's after midnight. I'll let you know when the strike teams hit their objectives. There's nothing that we can do until the first phase of VERTICAL STRIKE is completed. Go home, ok? "

"Let me ask you something, Chris. "

" Shoot."

"When you were making your escape from the mansion, did you ever feel like shitting in your drawers?"

Chris gave her a quizzical look. Then they both burst out laughing. Jill placed her arm around her ex-partner and both left the firing range.


End file.
